


A First Time For Everything

by WilmaKins



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A/B/O Universe, Alpha Tony Stark, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Consent is Sexy, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Omega Steve Rogers, Optimistic Ending, Rimming, Top Tony Stark, Unhealthy Relationships, Virgin Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25674415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilmaKins/pseuds/WilmaKins
Summary: Steve's life hasn't exactly worked out the way he'd planned it.For a start, he never imagined he'd be bonded to anyone - the law, that Omegas cannot be virgins on their bonding night, was never going to apply to him anyway.And he never imagined he'd be engaged to someone like Pierce... Someone who would pay an 'exclusive and fashionable consort' to take his virginity.And he really, really hadn't expected someone like Tony Stark to turn up....(A/B/O universe, written for the lovely people on the POTS server - please read the notes)
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 50
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/gifts), [tina_v](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tina_v/gifts).



> I would like to once again thank the lovely people on the POTS server, (and the good people at Bacardi), for continuing to push me outside of my wheelhouse - honestly, I'm not sure I'm even on the boat anymore.  
> But, yes, this does represent another departure from my usual work - it's the first time I've tried a/b/o mechanics, and it's very much an experiment in moving out of my comfort zone, so... yeah, a little nervous about this one.  
> And in what is possibly the most Wilma thing I'll ever write - there is no NSFW content in this first chapter of my one shot about Steve losing his virginity.  
> The second chapter is basically just porn. So, I'll leave any specific warnings on that until then. But please be aware that the tags may be updated.  
> Really hope you like it!

“It’s perfectly normal to be nervous, you know.”

Steve glanced up from his hands, and found Natasha was looking back at him with an unusually kind expression.

“Hm?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at her. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he wasn’t even sure he’d heard her speak.

“I said, it’s perfectly natural to be nervous,” she repeated, more softly. Steve just about managed a little smile for her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Actually, _nervous_ probably would’ve felt more natural. _Nervous_ would have been better.

But, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, however much he told himself otherwise, Steve had a horrible feeling that ‘annoyed’ might be the better word.

And, obviously, he couldn’t explain that to Natasha.

He liked her well enough – a lot more than the rest of Pierce’s staff. Beneath her cool exterior, she was far more empathetic and aware than the others. She’d never once talked _about_ Steve when he was standing right there, the way all the other SHIELD agents seemed to. She’d never looked at him as though she was appraising his value, like so many other Alphas did. Steve was very glad that she was the one who’d been sent to escort him tonight-

But for all that, she still worked for Peirce.

Steve couldn’t even feel bitter, knowing that anything he said would obviously be reported back – it wasn’t as though Nat had ever promised him anything different. He didn’t _expect_ her to listen to his doubts objectively, or keep them to herself... why would she? When she was literally being paid to protect Pierce’s interests, when she’d always been honest about that arrangement-

When, like everyone else in the world these days, she didn’t even _know_ Steve.

So, instead he just sighed, and told her,

“I’m not nervous.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, _well, I know something’s wrong._ And Steve knew he probably could’ve convinced her there wasn’t, if he’d been prepared to make the effort. Or he could’ve said that he just didn’t feel like talking – she probably would have chalked that down to regular, ‘perfectly natural’ nervousness, and let it be.

But that petulant sense of self was still in there somewhere, as much as it had been battered and burdened in the last few years. The part of him that raged against every injustice, even when all of his anger had been rendered impotent and irrelevant. The part of him that _wanted_ to have his say, make his argument, even when it could only hurt him.

The part of him that couldn’t pretend he _wasn’t_ angry – just because he was.

“It’s a stupid law,” he muttered, looking back down at his hands again. He’d been twisting his engagement ring since they first got in the car, and now the skin underneath was irritated and sore… but he couldn’t stop doing it.

“It’s there to protect you, you know,” Nat commented casually. And Steve let go of a frustrated breath before he could stop himself-

But, really, that was _such_ an Alpha thing to say.

“They passed that law during the Revolution, because some Princess or Countess or something got attacked by rebel soldiers, and the King wanted to make the point that they hadn’t ‘ruined’ her,” he corrected. “That’s it. That’s the whole reason I’m in this car two hundred years later, on my way to…”

He managed to swallow his next words in a sharp intake of breath, already worried he’d said too much.

Nat just maintained that same patient expression.

“History is never that simple, you know,” she told him. “Laws are never really passed because of one event like that – it’s always about what they represent. It’s because there was a time when virgins were targeted because they were valuable – and Omegas weren’t valued unless they were virgins. And it’s still that way, in a lot of places. This was the law that changed all that here. Would you really rather he _expected_ you to be a virgin? That Omegas _were_ considered ruined if they’d had sex before they were bonded?”

_I’d rather those not be my options._

He so nearly said it. He still _wanted_ to say it-

But he bit it back, this time.

“I guess not,” he muttered, turning to look out of the window. Hoping she’d take the hint and drop the conversation, wishing he hadn’t started them down this route in the first place.

It wasn’t even the law that annoyed him.

Well, no, the law _did_ annoy him. And all the ridiculous, unfair assumptions that underpinned it annoyed him, and the attitude _everyone_ had when they talked about it-

But that wasn’t what was bothering him right now.

Steve was trying very hard _not_ to think about what was actually bothering him right now... Like the fact that, really, the law wasn’t even the reason he was doing this. The law only said that Steve couldn’t be a virgin when he was bonded – it didn’t say anything about him being driven to one of Pierce’s country houses and made to fuck a total stranger. This particular tradition was just a trapping of high society, a pretentious and somewhat creepy fad started by noble families as a means of showing off to one another.

And Steve didn’t _want_ to think about the fact that his soon-to-be Alpha was one of those people. He didn’t want to think too deeply about the alien world he was being bonded into, or the fact that he’d soon be an accessory to all those elitist rules and all that ridiculous social climbing. He didn’t like to imagine himself in a few weeks, doing all those things he used to make fun of, when he was a working class kid from Brooklyn… truthfully, he didn’t want to think about what that all _meant_.

He didn’t want to know what it meant, that Peirce would rather send Steve to a ‘fashionable and exclusive’ consort, than be the first person to touch him.

And Steve didn’t want to think too hard about whether that was really the issue-

Because somewhere, he already knew it wasn’t.

Maybe it would’ve been better if Steve _had_ been hurt by Peirce’s decision. If he’d really _wanted_ Peirce to be his first, if he’d really cared whether Pierce felt the same way…

Steve didn’t want to acknowledge that none of this felt personal. That he was angry at the principle, judgemental of Pierce for choosing this… But not especially uncomfortable about having sex with someone _else_ …

What would _that_ mean?

And then Steve felt the smooth tarmac dissolve into gravel under the wheels of the car, as they made that final turn into the driveway. The sudden, nauseous plunge in his stomach took him completely by surprise.

…He _wasn’t_ nervous about this, was he?

About getting bonded, and his reasons for doing it, and the world he was marrying into, yeah, maybe. About his place in the 21st Century, and the future he could possibly have here… Definitely. Obviously.

But this was just sex.

 _This_ especially… this really was just about the completion of the physical act. There were no feelings involved here, no history, no consequences. All those things he might’ve been nervous about didn’t really apply.

Why should he care about ‘getting it wrong’ in front of a total stranger?

Why should he hope this ‘went well’, when it meant nothing to either of them, if it did or it didn’t…

When Steve had always known this was going to be awkward and cold – when, as far as he could tell, it wasn’t _supposed_ to be anything else, the first time. At least, not to these people

_…People like the Alpha you’re getting bonded to, next week._

He shook the thought away and got out of the car. He heard Natasha’s door open, but when he looked back at her she was just standing there, her arms loosely folded.

“You’re not coming in?” Steve asked, surprised by how weak his own voice sounded. She just smiled and shook her head.

“But, I’ll be right here,” she nodded to the vast parking bay, just to the left of the house. “And if you need me,” and she gestured to her watch, which he knew was connected directly to his phone, and to the alarm system in the house.

He was sure she meant that to be reassuring, so he offered a thin smile of thanks. And then, as he turned away again, he heard her speak in a different voice entirely – more genuine…more raw, somehow.

“You _can_ say no – to _anything_ ,” she told him. Steve paused, and raised his eyebrows at her. “You don’t have to be ‘in trouble’. If anything makes you uncomfortable, if you want to leave, just call me. And… I’ll make sure it’s okay. Okay?”

He smiled more genuinely at that.

Okay, so none of the romantic scenarios he’d dreamed up as a kid had ever included a disclaimer like that…

But he wasn’t a kid anymore. Life wasn’t as simple as the fairy tales made it out to be. And, in real life, it was nice to hear her say that.

It was certainly far better than anything Rumlow would’ve said…

“Thank you,” he nodded, so quietly that he wasn’t sure she’d heard it. But she nodded back. So, with a deep breath, Steve turned again to make his way up to the house.

*

Steve had been waiting in the hallway, perched awkwardly on one of the antique couches, for nearly twenty minutes. He knew this, because he kept checking the clock – otherwise, he’d have sworn it was far longer.

He’d spent most of that time convincing himself that he _wasn’t_ nervous. That he was just awkward, and uncomfortable, and anxious for this to be over… But none of that meant he was ‘nervous’. Not like… that.

And he _wasn’t_ regretting his decision to bond with Peirce… He was just disappointed that real life was more complicated and compromised than he’d hoped. And _that_ was just childish, and he should get over it.

Pierce _was_ a good match, in about every way that you could judge it. Pierce was a great man, the leader of the world’s foremost security team – he’d _turned down_ the Nobel Peace Prize, for fucks sake. He was smart, and brave, and respected. He’d never spoken to Steve badly. He’d actually been quite sweet… well, no… but thoughtful, at least… while they were courting. In that strange, upper class way, anyway… He was even rich and well connected, for those that cared about that sort of thing. What the hell else was Steve looking for?

_You’re settling, and you know you are._

Steve huffed angrily at himself, all alone in that lobby. Embarrassed in front of himself, that he still clung to those idealised concepts of love – that there was a special someone out there that he was supposed to wait for, that he was supposed to feel some rush of excitement when he thought about his mate, that everything would work out in the end… The last year should have taught him that all of that was a lie. He should have known it anyway.

In the real world, these were choices he had to make like a grown up. Options he had to weigh up rationally, knowing full well that none of them were perfect.

But did he want to spend the rest of his life enduring heat on his own, without a single person he knew or trusted enough to help him? No.

Did he want to spend the rest of his life never belonging _anywhere_ , with no family, no one to come home to, no one who’d miss him if he died? No.

Had he met a single Alpha in the 21st Century who he would rather be bonded to? No.

_Do you really want to be bonded to the person who paid a stranger to take your virginity – without even asking you?_

Steve could only manage a sad sigh for that one. Honestly, he really didn’t understand this whole thing. He couldn’t begin to imagine how Peirce saw it…

But that was true of everything, these days.

And, yeah, life among the wealthy and high-blooded felt strange and wrong to him… But so did walking around his old neighbourhood, now. It wasn’t as though Steve understood _those_ norms or customs anymore. And he didn’t know where to begin asking, and he didn’t have anyone he knew well enough to ask, and he was never entirely sure whether the new world was the problem or if it was just his own outdated perspective-

So, who was he to question anything?

And he knew that Pierce had _meant_ it as a show of… if not affection, then at least of how much he valued Steve. Pierce had expected Steve to be pleased, reassured, that he’d had chosen someone of such esteem. That he’d been able to… _secure the services_ , of someone so sought after. It had probably never occurred to Peirce that Steve would object to this… and, okay, Steve didn’t get that. But he was at least sure it hadn’t been intended to hurt him and, really, what else was there?

And then there was a knock at the door.

Steve’s stomach just turned to water. His entire body suddenly tensed, and for a good few seconds he literally couldn’t move.

Oh, God he was nervous.

And then he managed to force a slow breath out of his lungs. He uncurled his hands and ran his palms over the lush fabric of the couch, surprised by how sweaty they were. He squeezed his eyes shut, and swallowed hard, and told himself to _get a grip_.

_It’s just sex._

_It doesn’t mean anything._

_It’s hardly going to be the most uncomfortable thing you’ve ever been through, however bad it is._

_Just get on with it._

So, powered entirely by his own irritation with himself, Steve pushed himself up into his feet. He managed to stroll to the door with more confidence than he felt, and threw it open with perhaps a bit too much force-

And… _Fuck_.

It was his hair that Steve saw first, a thick mass of glossy black that reflected a thousand other iridescent colours. And then his neck, his soft tanned skin against the collar of a crisp white shirt.

And then his eyes.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure what he had been expecting… But he was in no way prepared to find _the_ most beautiful human being he’d ever seen in his life.

His first reaction was an almost physical sense of awe. An amazed confusion that what he was looking at was real, an instinct to look again, to move closer, to reach out and touch… This must’ve what it was like to discover fire. And then, before he had the chance to snap himself out of it, the stranger looked up at him through those long, dark lashes – and _smiled_.

Steve very nearly slammed the door on him.

He didn’t even know _why_ – it just seemed like a natural response, in the moment. A flinching reaction to feeling so much, so quickly.

But the stranger spoke before Steve could remember how his limbs worked.

“ _Please_ tell me you’re Steven Rogers?” He asked, his voice rich and playful.

And, honest to God, Steve couldn’t remember if he was or not.

“Why, who were you expecting?” He heard himself respond, with no idea where it had come from. And the stranger’s eyes lit up as his smile broke into a grin.

“I’ll be entirely honest, I wasn’t expecting _you_ ,” he replied, shamelessly.

And Steve smiled back. He hadn’t meant to, he just-

“Are you going to invite me in, then?” The stranger enquired, an almost teasing tone to his voice.

“Oh! Yes, of course, come in,” Steve remembered, scrambling back to open the door further.

And with that he realised that he was blushing, and stammering, and that he’d probably been staring-

That, all in all, this had been a pretty bad start to things… And, as it turned out, he _did_ care.

Oh, he knew he shouldn’t think about that either. Suddenly, Steve had a horrible feeling that if examined this reaction too closely he’d find all sorts of things he didn’t want to know…

_But you do want-_

“I’m sorry, Peirce did tell me your name, but, um…” Steve blurted, looking up to where the stranger was now standing, confidently appraising his surroundings from the middle of the hall.

“It’s Tony,” he replied warmly, stepping forward and extending his hand. And even as Steve’s head was yelling at him to stop, wait a minute, _think_ about this sudden sense of alarm… his body was moving of its own accord. His legs just took that final step, his arm reaching up towards him-

And then Tony took his hand, _so_ confidently…But still soft, somehow. He curled his fingers around Steve’s, _holding_ his hand with more affection than he had any right to, his palm tingling sharply against Steve’s skin as though he was actually emitting some sort of charge. Steve felt his stomach tighten, a painful heat throbbing low in his gut, slowly spreading into his hips. He managed a small, shallow intake of breath…

And everything just seemed to slow down, and pull inwards, Steve’s entire world being condensed into that one moment-

That smell.

That dark, earthy, almost sweet scent, that seemed to flood through Steve’s body like a drug – but more than that. The added layer of Tony’s cologne, the little hint of coconut shampoo, what might’ve been the trace of motor oil… The smell of his skin. All of it, part of one overwhelming physical experience. As though the fog closing in on Steve’s thoughts had that same scent, like he could feel it in his blood-

When he swallowed, he could taste it.

He watched in slow motion, as Tony’s eyes flashed darker, his lips softening into a different sort of smile. Steve tensed, his hand still curled close around Tony’s, this throat tightening as Tony’s gaze dropped to his neck. He saw the way Tony’s nostrils flared as he inhaled slowly, the way he pursed his lips just so…

_You’ll never feel this way about Pierce._

And in that one, endless second, Steve knew that _this_ was everything he’d been pretending didn’t exist. This was that spark, that rush, that instant draw that he used to daydream about – that he did still want – that he’d tried to convince himself was a fairy tale-

Because he didn’t feel any of this for Peirce.

These butterflies.

This heat.

This immediate, _bodily_ response.

_This is wrong_.

Steve snapped back into himself with a horrible jolt, taking his hand back too forcefully, instinctively turning away. A blush ran up his neck like burning oil, and Steve almost gasped at the intensity of it-

But he stopped himself.

Some part of him managed to remember concepts like dignity and social behaviour – even if he had no idea what to do with them. There was just this sudden awareness, this creeping shame, this instinct to cover himself, to conceal, to _run_.

And then the realisation that ‘social behaviour’ meant that he was going to have to turn and look at Tony, that he was going to have to _say_ something-

Steve couldn’t have felt more humiliated and vulnerable if he’d found himself standing there naked.

_Get a hold of yourself!_

Steve swallowed, hard, and _forced_ himself to speak. Something. Anything.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, turning back to Tony’s general direction, still not able to look _at_ him. “I…To be honest, I’m not really sure what you’re supposed to do… in… in this situation…”

_Okay, maybe not just ‘anything’ the next time we try speaking._

He tried not to wince, as he finally brought his eyes to Tony’s face again-

And found a casual, friendly sort of expression that he hadn’t expected at all.

“Well, no, that’s because this whole thing is just weird,” Tony commented, as thought it were simply his contribution to a general conversation – like it really hadn’t occurred to him that he should say something different, seeing as he was actually in the middle of ‘this whole thing’.

Steve felt as though he should be irritated by that. He certainly _knew_ , immediately, that it could’ve been an insensitive thing to say. That it should suggest a certain entitlement in Tony, an arrogance even, something that Steve didn’t usually like. Something he probably _shouldn’t_ like.

And yet.

Maybe there was a part of Steve that just longed to hear anyone say that. Some part of him that felt the connection of a shared idea, a shared perspective, regardless of how inappropriate it was that it should be this person, right now.

…Or maybe Steve did quite like something about Tony’s confidence. Maybe there _was_ something in the particular way he carried himself, maybe-

The next words out of his mouth were more to argue himself out of this reaction, than to refute anything Tony had said.

“So, why are you doing this?” Steve asked, trying to sound defensive and not quite making it. Tony didn’t miss a beat.

“Why are you?”

“I…”

 _Have to do this_ – wasn’t actually true.

 _Want to do this –_ really wasn’t true.

 _Am doing this for Peirce_ – wasn’t how he wanted to see himself. Wasn’t how he wanted Tony to see him.

“…withdraw the question,” Steve finished, weakly.

Tony just smiled, like Steve’s refusal to answer had been an answer in itself.

And it was really, wasn’t it?

“Would you like a drink?” Tony suggested, in that same easy, self-assured way. And Steve’s first thought was, yes, he would dearly love to go anywhere, do anything, that would bring an end to this specific moment. Oh, but…

“I, uh, I don’t actually know where anything is, here,” he admitted, awkwardly. “I’ve… never been here before.”

“That’s okay, I have,” Tony smiled, gesturing to one of the wide corridors.

“You have?” Steve blinked, momentarily thrown.

“Of course,” Tony answered. “I’m not going to come alone in the middle of the night to a place I’ve never even seen before. Who knows what I might be walking into,” he finished with a grin, like it was a shared joke of theirs. And then he waved towards the corridor again, _shall we_?

Steve waved him ahead, _lead the way._ Mainly, so that he could steal just a few seconds of distance. He deliberately kept a step behind Tony, willing himself to _think_ , before he found himself having to speak again.

Trying to avoid the temptation to use these seconds just to _look_ at Tony, unnoticed…

_And you will never feel that way about Pierce_

But, outside of that surreal moment, Steve actually felt incredibly guilty about that thought.

Was he really having doubts because he wasn’t _attracted_ to Pierce like this?

Because his _body_ wanted something else?

 _Steve_ , of all people, wondering if he’d made the wrong choice because Pierce wasn’t as obviously pretty as this man was. Because there wasn’t this _physical_ reaction.

Steve, who’d spent his whole youth lamenting the fact that no one would ever look past his appearance.

Steve, who’d spent his whole _life_ arguing against the idea of ‘biological facts’, who hated every political position and prejudiced law that was supposedly justified by his physiology.

Was he really going to forget all the personal qualities Pierce had, all the reasons he was such a good match, because of a man Steve knew literally _nothing_ about?

Was he going to just forget every time he’d argued that he was more than his biological functions?

Steve was a better person than _that_ , surely?

And then, all too quickly, he found himself walking into a large, open plan kitchen. It was all polished white marble and shiny, silver fittings, as immaculate and impersonal as the rest of the house. There was a small, wooden table in the corner of the room… But, instinctively, Steve felt like it would be less formal… or less intimate… if he sat on one of the tall stools that was tucked under the central island. Tony just carried on walking over to the refrigerator, as Steve perched himself awkwardly and leant his weight on the countertop. Uncomfortable, but glad of the distance it seemed to afford him.

“Water, juice, wine?” Tony suggested, casually, pulling a bottle of white wine from the fridge. “Something stronger?”

And Steve might’ve quite liked something stronger – not that it could do anything for him anymore, but he had the strange idea that the taste of it, the burn on his tongue, would at least remind him of those steadying effects…

“Wine’s fine,” he said instead, smiling a little thank you.

He watched in silence as Tony retrieved two glasses from one of the cabinets and poured their drinks. Chastening himself for not bothering to have a look around this house before Tony arrived…

_I don’t even know where the bedroom is-_

“Thank you,” Steve muttered, as Tony pushed his glass over the counter to him. He took a sip so that he didn’t have to say anything. It was sweet, and smooth, and obviously expensive. “I take it _you_ chose this?”

“I did,” Tony smiled, taking a sip of his own drink. “Seemed a little rude to casually offer up Alex’s personal wine collection – not that he’d mind you drinking it, I’m sure.”

“You call him Alex?” Steve asked, before he could stop himself – and then immediately regretted it.

“And you don’t,” Tony noted, as though it were just an interesting observation to him.

“No…” Steve realised as he was saying it. “…I guess it never seemed weird, really. I mean, lots of people I knew growing up went by their surname, or a nickname, or, I mean, my best friend went by a shortened version of his middle name…”

But he was overexplaining – because it _was_ weird, and Steve knew it, and suddenly he couldn’t understand how it hadn’t seemed weird before.

It even felt wrong when he tried to change it in his head.

 _Alex_ …

“So, do you prefer to be called Rogers, then?” Tony asked, genuinely. Steve wrinkled his nose.

“No – but then I never much liked my surname,” he shrugged.

“Are you keeping it?”

“No,” Steve shook his head. “I did think about Pierce Rogers, or Rogers Pierce… But Steven Rogers Pierce sounds like a British tabloid headline-”

And Tony burst out laughing.

Which was exactly the sort of thing that Steve usually took personally. He’d spent his entire life being mocked and belittled – and then told that he was being an over-sensitive Omega, if he got upset.

Fighting against his perceived role in society had just led to a life surrounded by Alphas – but never included by them. And Alphas never laughed _with_ Omegas. They laughed at them, or about them, or about things they assumed Steve wouldn’t understand and refused to let him in on. From the classes he _insisted_ on taking in school, to the time he spent in the army, someone laughing at him had only ever meant the start of a fight…

Until he woke up in a world without context, stripped of every part of his identity, with no clue what it meant to be a man or an Omega or a good person anymore – with no idea what anyone was laughing at, or how they meant it, or how he should respond. When people laughed at him now, Steve could only suffer the discomfort in silence, left out of every joke and feeling as lonely as he ever did.

…But he liked that he’d made Tony laugh.

He just did, without having to think about it or justify it or make sense of it.

He liked the _way_ Tony laughed, the warmth and authenticity of it, the way it seemed to roll through his entire body.

Steve liked the warmth it sparked in _him_. That only-slightly-embarrassed pride that bloomed in his stomach, just _knowing_ that Tony was only laughing because he found that funny-

_And you hate it when Peirce laughs at you_.

The smile faded from Steve’s face as he buried that observation, taking another mouthful of his wine.

“So, it’s Steven, then?” Tony clarified, still grinning.

“Steve,” he corrected… smiling back.

“Steve,” Tony repeated, like he was seeing how it felt… and liked it. And then he exhaled softly, a more serious expression melting over his features as he took his seat on the other side of the counter. “So, Steve, I’m sorry to say that I really can’t withdraw this question. _Why_ are you here?”

And Steve felt it like a kick to his chest.

And then a flash of resistance…

Irritation, maybe?

He’d go with irritation.

“Why do you want to know?” He challenged, his voice a bit firmer now. His mind full of arguments about it not being Tony’s business, why it was entitled and rude of him to ask-

All to drown out the fear of not having an answer… Of not liking the answer…

“Because, if the answer is ‘I have no choice’, then that would make me a rapist, now wouldn’t it?” Tony replied, calmly. “And I can’t just let someone be _forced_ to have sex with me, and not even bother to check. Doesn’t really fly as an excuse, does it? ‘Oh, I didn’t ask…’”

Steve’s mind just went completely blank, for a second. And then, when it rebooted, the only word it could find was, _yes_.

 _Yes_ , that was exactly it – the mindset that Steve had tried to explain to so many Alphas, in the face of aggression and judgement and condescension

 _Yes,_ that was how it was meant to sound – like it was obvious, like Tony wasn’t expecting a ‘progressive Alpha’ merit badge for saying it.

And then another flash of panic, as Steve remembered that this wasn’t a hypothetical conversation. That Tony was right – he really _did_ have to answer that.

“No one is forcing me,” Steve tried to make it sound as though that idea was ridiculous. “It’s not that I haven’t got a choice… I had lots of choices. And none of them were exactly perfect, but this was the best one, so…”

But Tony just raised his eyebrows, _go on_.

“I mean… This isn’t what I grew up with,” Steve shrugged. “I know that this represents something to Pierce, and his family, and… everybody. And, okay, maybe I don’t really get the significance, but that’s what it’s like if you get bonded into another culture, right? Just because a custom is new to you, and maybe it doesn’t mean the same thing to you, doesn’t mean you _don’t want_ to do it. And, you know, I really could’ve said no. It’s not like he’d have insisted, or anything…”

_…How sure are you about that?_

“But, I guess on balance I thought… I’d rather do this than not…” Steve trailed off into helplessness. Hating himself for saying any of that.

But Tony nodded, as though it had been an entirely reasonable response. Which was some small relief, at least.

And then Tony reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a slim envelope, in a familiar burgundy colour. Legal documents. He put it down on the counter between them, and waited for Steve to pick it up.

“Don’t open it,” Tony warned, as Steve turned the envelope over and saw the sticker over the flap – witnessed and sealed by an attorney… and tomorrows date.

“What is it?” Steve frowned.

“A signed statement that states that we had sex tonight, and that I knotted you, and that you are now free to be bonded,” Tony explained. “And I will be held entirely legally responsible if it later transpires that I forged that document, or lied in it. So. You can be very sure that I will never tell a soul it isn’t true.”

“Oh,” Steve answered, dumbstruck and not entirely sure how he felt.

He glanced up from the envelope and found that Tony had him fixed with a very serious look, his eyes impossibly deep.

“So, now I can ask you,” Tony said, and then left a beat for emphasis. “Do you _want_ to do this?”

Oh.

… _Oh_.

First, there was the surge of relief that Tony _wasn’t_ just telling him no. Which was inappropriate, and unfortunate… but undeniable. Steve had simply assumed that Tony was about to leave, that he was giving Steve these documents _instead_ of-

And Steve _was_ pleased that wasn’t the case.

So, there was that to deal with.

And then the dawning realisation that this was exactly what Tony _should_ have done… The real answer to every petulant, entitled ‘ _Jesus, how do you know if an Omega wants it_’ question he’d ever been asked – the answer Steve could never give, because he’d be cut off my an exasperated groan or an eyeroll, or because he knew there was just no point in bothering…

Because it was just _too much_ to ask an Alpha to think about how an Omega was feeling, or the different pressures they might be under.

Because it was simply _too far_ , to suggest an Alpha might not only recognise a power imbalance, but take it upon themselves to redress it.

No Alpha was ever going to entertain an actual discussion about what consent _meant_ -

_You thought this was a fairy tale, too._

Steve looked at Tony again, and found that he was simply waiting patiently. Steve glanced back to the envelope… and then at his engagement ring.

_Do I want this?_

And the honest answer was that he’d never wanted to take part in this stupid tradition, whatever he’d just said to Tony. Steve _had_ spent the last few weeks thinking about this moment with a queasy, wordless dread… He _had_ wished that some magical escape would appear from nowhere and make this whole thing go away.

And here it was, right here in his hands… and he didn’t want it.

And it wasn’t because he’d changed his mind about this ridiculous ritual, or seen some new benefit to it, or committed to any of the reasons he’d been making up for weeks… It was just because he wanted Tony.

That felt wrong, for a second.

And then there was a sudden flare of temper, as Steve lost patience with himself, or with the world. He didn’t even know if this was him snapping, or him caving-

But, really, how was he _supposed_ to feel right now?

What, he was supposed to have sex with someone he _didn’t_ like? When he _didn’t_ want to?

Well, if those were the rules, then maybe someone should’ve explained them to Steve when they were done arranging all of this behind his back.

This _might_ have been an act of infidelity, in the world Steve grew up in – but he wasn’t in that world anymore, was he? And he was expected to accept all the downsides of that, to immediately assume all these new priorities and requirements, to get over any of the anxieties or doubts he had about them-

So, screw it, he was going to ‘get over’ his guilt about this too.

“Yes, I want this,” he said, “I mean, thank you, but really, if I hadn’t wanted to do this, I wouldn’t be here.”

And Tony smiled, as though he was pleased.

…Steve _hoped_ he was pleased.

“In which case, I unwithdaw my question,” Steve suddenly realised. “Why do _you_ do this?”

And Tony flashed him a grin that was part amused, part impressed - _ah, touché._

“I don’t _do_ this,” he corrected, kindly. “Although, I have done this before. And it’s a different reason, each time.”

“So, why this time?” Steve went on, beginning to appreciate the freedom that came with letting himself off the hook – not having to pretend to _himself_ that he didn’t care what Tony thought of him.

“Well, Alex made it sound as though you were someone very special,” Tony replied, in a slightly more cautious tone… dropping his eyes, for the first time since he arrived. “Like… Maybe you deserved for this to be special. Or, you know, not completely awful at least.”

And Steve was fairly sure that wasn’t the real reason – or, at least, that it wasn’t the _whole_ reason… But he did believe that Tony was at least discerning about the people he did this for. That he’d _chosen_ to be here…

“How much is he paying you?” Steve just outright asked, nowhere near as surprised at himself as he should have been.

“He isn’t,” Tony smiled. “He _offered_ me twenty-five thousand – but I assume that was meant as a starting bid.”

“Wow. Twenty-five thousand,” Steve muttered, taking another sip of his drink. “You know, my mom and I lived in a one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, with no heat, and water when it felt like it… If you’d have told me that one day it’d cost someone twenty-five grand to get an Alpha to sleep with me… I’d have been really insulted, I guess.”

And Tony laughed again. More of an uncontrollable giggle this time, musical and playful and almost childlike.

And this time, Steve just let himself like it.

“I suspect you of secretly being a bit sassy, Steve Rogers,” he commented, his voice still rich with laugher.

And Steve felt his whole body just weaken under the niceness of that.

To be seen as _anything_. To have an actual personality in someone else’s eyes, to be viewed as something other than what he’d been through or what he stood for-

To be seen at all.

“It’s a _very_ well-kept secret,” Steve smiled, a pleasant blush warming his cheeks

“I won’t tell,” Tony promised, in an affectionate, teasing sort of tone. And Steve felt that warmth spread down along his neck, and his back, soaking deeper into his skin, until it consumed him. Just the simple goodness of the way Tony looked at him, the way it made him feel…

…Slowly heating into something more than that, with every second that passed.

He saw Tony see it. He watched Tony’s gaze sharpen, his eyes focusing on Steve’s throat and then trailing over the front of his chest… Steve could _feel_ Tony undressing him.

He let go of a little breath that he didn’t know he was holding, surprised by how tight his lungs felt. That vulnerable, naked feeling crept over him again as Steve grew increasingly aware of his own body.

That burning sensitivity on the surface his skin.

That pressure pulsing deep in his hips.

The wet heat pooling inside him.

Suddenly Steve felt as though he as trapped inside himself, so viscerally connected to every response and with no control over any of them, scared to move because he wasn’t sure what would happen if he did.

Tony’s eyes fell shut as he took a long, slow breath, his body tensing upwards, towards Steve. Steve knew that Tony could smell him, that he could _see_ him… that he _knew_ -

There was the most exhilarating rush of fear, a hyperawareness of just how exposed he was, how far out of his depth he’d suddenly fallen. He’d never felt anything like this, he had no idea what he was doing, he was sure this went against every teaching of ‘correct behaviour’-

But he liked it.

It was electric, and immediate, and _real_. Even the strangeness of it felt more exciting than uncomfortable, that hint of danger just adding to the thrill of it – like freefalling. It pushed everything else out of his head, out of his concept of reality-

He’d forgotten Pierce even existed.

Steve was beginning to forget everything outside of this room as the world pulled in closer, every part of his being turning to focus on this one instinct-

 _This_.

He swallowed hard.

“I, uh… I have no idea what I’m doing, you know,” Steve muttered, dropping his eyes. The blush across his cheeks deepened, and he had to fight a self-conscious little smile-

But this wasn’t a feeling of inadequacy, or embarrassment, or even guilt.

The discomfort of this didn’t feel wrong, somehow.

This was a more pleasant feeling of… Shyness, maybe? Or anticipation?

_Or maybe it is just natural to be nervous. Maybe nervous like this is actually quite nice…_

“Me neither,” Tony answered, his voice darker now… but warm, still. _Safe_.

Steve glanced up at him, mildly surprised. But before he could work out what the question would have been, Tony clarified.

“I’ve never slept with a Steve Rogers before. I have no idea what he likes…” he smiled, looking Steve up and down. Steve didn’t bother to stop and analyse why he liked that so much. He just let himself be reassured by it.

“Me neither,” he whispered.

And Tony stood up, and walked around the island slowly, his movements more fluid and natural now… The way a tiger walked.

Steve could feel his muscles tensing tighter with every step Tony took, his heart beating so hard he could feel it in his spine.

And then Tony stopped, maybe a foot away from Steve, his eyes so dark they were almost black.

Steve held his breath. He tilted his head up just slightly, dropping his arms to his sides – submitting, whether he realised it or not.

“Would you like to find out?” Tony asked in a low voice, like a growl. Steve actually gasped. And then he had to wait for the impact of those six words to roll through his entire body, until he’d found his feet in this light-headed awareness, before he could even manage to nod. Tony smiled.

And reached out and took his hand again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is mostly just porn.  
> Does feature some A/B/O mechanics, but no loss of control or dubious consent.  
> Ending is a bit angsty and ambiguous - if it helps at all, my protestations that this is a stand alone story are getting more and more pathetic, the more ideas I have for a slow-burn long fic...  
> BUT, I have so, SO much to do before I think about that, so consider this the conclusion.
> 
> ....For now ;-)

Steve was glad that it was Tony leading the way.

He knew this wasn’t the way the world usually was – the way _he_ usually was. Steve knew that everything about this was new and different and completely removed from all the normal rules and expectations-

But it still felt completely natural.

Even though he’d never been in this situation, he felt like he knew what he was supposed to do.

Even though he’d normally be ashamed and uncomfortable to be this exposed… it felt _right_.

And even though Steve usually hated to give up control, even though he’d always felt the pressure to take responsibility…

He _wanted_ to submit to Tony now.

He wanted to be good for Tony.

He wanted Tony to take care of him.

…Like it was supposed to be.

As Tony finally led him into the bedroom, Steve had the strange feeling of slipping into a dream. A place with its own internal logic, with a different concept of time, a fuzzier line between himself and the reality around him.

All these new and different things just seemed to be… happening.

Steve barely even bothered to look at the room. It was big, he noted that much. Mainly because, when Tony stopped and turned to face him, there still seemed to be so much distance between them and the bed…

And then Tony looked up at him again. That same look that had made Steve weak in the very first moment he saw him – but this time, Steve could look back. The same intensity of feeling rushed over him, the same immediate, physical _panic_ … But it didn’t make him want to run.

It was a shock to every one of his reflexes, an obvious contradiction to his most basic impulses… But he liked this panic.

Steve _liked_ the way his body tensed tighter with every second he looked at Tony, the way the anticipation coiled in his muscles, almost to the point of pain-

He liked the way his heart beat harder and harder, until he could feel it pulsing in his throat.

He liked the thrill of stepping outside himself, the freedom that came with being completely lost, the sense of personal security that came with total abandon-

And then Tony put his hand to Steve’s waist, dominant and tender, all at once – and Steve liked _that_ very much.

There was a sudden burst of excitement in Steve, as this distant, hypothetical longing became real – Tony _was_ going to kiss him, to touch him, was going to-

And then that scent closing in on him, thick and heavy, as Tony stepped closer. All the words just got absorbed into it, Steve’s conscious mind simply drowned out by all these immediate, desperate feelings. He fell so completely into the moment that he even forgot how special the moment was. Just trusting that Tony would catch him.

Tony’s lips brushed against his, gently, like he was seeking permission. That feather light touch was like a static shock, a spark that set everything else alight. Steve’s arms went to Tony instinctively, every part of him trying to melt against Tony’s chest, desperate to be close to him, to have more of him, to _give_ more to him. His lips parted, shamelessly, as he pulled Tony up into him, his whole body speaking _for_ him, _yes, this, more, please_.

And Tony heard it.

One hand went to the back of Steve’s head, possessive and commanding, as he pressed himself hard against Steve’s chest. He pulled Steve into him, kissing him deeper, his fingers threading roughly through his hair. Steve’s hands found their own way down along Tony’s back, finally spreading out across Tony’s waist and pulling him in.

There was an electric jolt of fiction as Tony deliberately followed that motion, rolling his hips into Steve. Steve whimpered softly against Tony’s lips as an eye-watering sensitivity rushed over every inch of his skin. He could feel that heat pooling deep in his hips, steadily spreading lower; that vulnerable feeling, as his body shifted and loosened, all entirely outside of his control. And then Tony’s hand slipped down to the back of Steve’s neck, his thumb caressing firmly at the sensitive spot just behind Steve’s ear-

The sensitive spot he didn’t know he had.

Steve hadn’t even realised that his lungs were burning, until he broke the kiss and he found himself gasping for air. The rush of oxygen tasted of Tony, rolling through Steve’s head, making him dizzy. He heard Tony hum a satisfied smile.

“So, you like that, then,” he observed in a dark whisper, as he leant in to kiss Steve’s throat very softly… Steve tried for ‘Um-hm’, but it got swallowed up by a breathy moan. He felt a pearl of slick run down over his thighs, and there was that instinct to be ashamed… but the best Steve could manage was illicitly thrilled.

Tony let go of a heavy breath, hot against Steve’s skin, and then moved to snatch Steve’s hand, tugging him over to the bed with a fiercer sort of desperation. It was a miracle Steve didn’t stumble – although he did fall back onto the bed with a somewhat graceless bump. And he wasn’t especially careful about shuffling back to the centre of the mattress, being far too eager to make room for Tony-

Who seemed every bit as eager as Steve was.

He crawled on top of him, until his hands were planted either side of Steve’s shoulders, and Steve’s hips were pinned beneath his knees. When Tony looked down over him now it was with an entirely different sort of intensity. Steve _felt_ it; a sudden, searing tightening feeling, even as his body opened up for Tony.

And God, he was so excited that he could barely breathe.

He was so turned on that he didn’t know what to do with himself.

…But he _wasn’t_ nervous.

He was too certain of this, to be anything like nervous.

And then Tony dropped down and kissed him, with no hesitation whatsoever this time, his entire body moving against Steve as he devoured his mouth. Steve groaned, and grabbed him by the hips, arching up against him as he pulled him closer. Tony ground into him, slowly and deliberately, never breaking the kiss – leaving Steve to moan helplessly against his lips as a deep, pulsing pleasure ran through him. He bucked up into it, desperate to keep hold of it, for _more_ of it-

Oh, fuck, he was going to come.

He couldn’t even remember if that was bad or not-

Was he supposed to embarrassed, if he came too quickly? Or was that just Alphas?

Wasn’t it supposed to be a good thing, if Omegas came easily-

And then Tony rocked into him again more sharply, and Steve had to throw his head back and gasp for air, having to tense his thoughts to stop himself from climaxing right then.

His vision was cloudy, his head was swimming, his heart pounding so hard that he could barely think over the top of it. His cock throbbed painfully, weeping steadily against the fabric of his underwear, slick pooling between his legs, soaking his thighs.

“Do you want me to stop?” Tony whispered close to Steve’s ear, his voice low and rough and rushed. It sounded like it was a physical effort for Tony pause and say that – but Steve was way beyond appreciating that he’d made it.

“God no, please no, don’t stop,” he babbled, grabbing at Tony’s waist.

And then Tony’s hand was on the front of Steve’s shirt, unfastening the buttons with incredible efficiency, before he went back to kissing Steve’s neck.

Steve let his head fall back, baring his throat, desperate to give as much of himself as he possibly could. It felt so sensitive, so _intimate_ , having Tony kiss him like that. It sent a pleasantly uneasy shudder through his shoulders, over and over again as Tony worked his way up along Steve’s neck, to that same little spot just behind his ear.

Steve writhed powerlessly as Tony’s hand swept over his stomach, his palms cool against Steve’s hot, damp skin.

“You have _beautiful_ skin,” Tony whispered, in between kisses, stroking up over his chest, caressing Steve’s shoulders under his shirt.

And then his hands started to move lower again, as he started trailing kisses back down along Steve’s throat, and then his collarbone.

“And beautiful arms,” Tony murmured. “Perfect, you’re perfect.”

Again, whatever response Steve had to that was swallowed by a pleading sound, as Tony shifted so that he could move down along Steve’s body, peppering kisses and caresses over his chest and stomach.

And then Tony’s fingers were on his belt buckle, making equally quick work of unfastening Steve’s pants, one hand already sliding down under the waistband of his underwear-

“ _Jesus, Steve_ ,” he breathed, as he slid his palm over the length of Steve’s cock.

“OhgodTony-” Steve gasped, jerking up against his hand, another rush of slick coating his legs as Tony ran a slow, firm grip over the length of him. A hot surge of pleasure curled through Steve’s hips, along with a deep, tugging _need_.

“Jesus Steve you’re incredible, _impossible_ ,” Tony whispered, like he was talking to himself. “Look at you…” His hand dipped between Steve’s legs, his fingertip teasing at the curve of Steve’s ass, “so wet for me, so good for me…”

“Please Tony, please,” Steve begged, not even sure what he was begging for.

And then Tony pulled his hand free, and curled it over Steve’s waistband, and tugged both Steve’s pants and his underwear down over his hips in one abrupt motion.

Steve felt a sudden rush of exposure, and then a far more intense feeling of hot, vulnerable awareness, as Tony finished pulling his clothes down over his legs, and tossed them aside-

And looked at him.

No one had ever seen Steve like this.

A heat rushed to Steve’s face as he recognised himself, naked and hard and so wet that the bedsheets were already clinging, damp and sticky, to his skin.

It was terrifying and exhilarating and unthinkable and wonderful, all at the same time. Like standing on a very high ledge, overlooking a vast glistening city.

And the _way_ Tony looked at him-

Awed, and hungry. The barely contained power and immovable control of a predatory animal.

Steve whimpered. His body took over, responding to some unspoken, unknowable instinct. His shoulders fell loose, his head fell back, his legs fell further apart. Every part of him rushing to surrender to this, to signal to Tony that Steve was _his_.

He heard Tony _growl_ , and felt it run through his body like a caress.

“ _Please,”_ Steve whispered, desperately, his eyes falling shut and his hips arching upwards.

And then Tony dropped his head, and slid Steve’s cock into his mouth.

Steve froze. His mind short circuited, blanked to nothing. His breath caught in his throat.

_Oh God. Oh God, he’s-_

But Steve just couldn’t process what Tony was doing. He couldn’t make it fit in his head. He had no idea about nowadays, of course – but in the forties, at least, this would’ve been an unspeakable taboo. _Alphas_ could maybe do this sort of thing, with a certain type of Omega, before they were bonded. The sort of thing they laughed over in smoke filled bars that Steve was never allowed into, even when he’d earned a military uniform. But Omegas didn’t even talk about something like this. Steve had no doubt that half of the Omegas he grew up with had genuinely never heard of it, never _imagined_ anything so vulgar and-

Tony pulled back slowly, dragging his tongue along the length of him, sucking at the head of Steve’s cock before he took him again-

“Oh, yes,” Steve moaned, as his body snapped out of it and began to move against Tony’s mouth.

Oh, God, this was-

The _hottest_ thing-

The most erotic, most intimate thing-

Steve had never felt anything like this.

This time Tony took him deeper, right to the back of his throat, stealing Steve’s breath in a rush of liquid heat. Steve tried to cry out as another burst of pleasure coiled inside him, tighter and harsher and more painfully sensitive – more desperate.

And then Tony sucked hard against his skin, working the head of his cock against the back of his tongue, sending short, sharp shivers to meet the low, aching burn-

It was like something inside Steve slipped. Like he’d lost his grip on something, and now everything was just collapsing in on itself in an instant.

“Oh, Tony, God, I’m going to come, please-”

And then that pressure inside him just broke, and he was coming, and coming, so hard it was almost painful-

And Tony didn’t move.

He just carried on sucking Steve, and swallowing, and oh God, that was-

And then that tidal wave of feeling just crashed. All the tension just washed out of Steve’s body, leaving him a heavy, unresponsive, vaguely connected collection of limbs. His eyes fell shut, but he could still feel the room swaying. His head was throbbing in time with his racing pulse, his chest still heaved frantically for air, his muscles loose and helpless against the aftershocks that shuddered through them.

He’d fallen out of time completely.

And then, after however long, his head finally stopped swimming. His lungs calmed down enough to drag in a long, slow breath. The shock began to ease out of him, leaving just that warm, pleasant afterglow…

And buried just beneath it, the beginnings of that dull ache.

Not quite the same as that persistent ache that plagued him during his heats… But from the same place. That same physical frustration, that same wordless yearning for something more – something _else_.

His body was so ready to take Tony now that he felt empty without him, _needed_ him-

“Please,” Steve whispered, his voice hoarse, his body still trembling and sensitive.

“ _Shhh,_ Shh, it’s okay baby,” Tony soothed. “Just relax. I promise, I’ll take care of you.”

Steve managed to force his eyes open, blinking the shadows away. He saw Tony, surrounded by a cloud of stars, his shoulders tense and his chest heaving – but his eyes were warm, and kind, still.

“Tony,” Steve whispered, instinctively trying to lean up towards him. But Tony placed a palm against his chest, commanding and careful.

“It’s okay sweetheart, lie back. Take a minute. Just breathe.”

Steve did as he was told, his gaze still locked on Tony. He watched, mesmerised, as Tony unbuttoned his shirt, already thinking about touching his skin, having it pressed close against him. And then Tony slipped his shirt over his shoulders, smiled, and told him,

“Roll over.”

Which, again, Steve followed without thinking, flinching as his still sensitive cock was pressed against the soaked sheets. He felt the mattress shift beneath him, as Tony moved to finish undressing…And then knelt behind Steve, between his legs.

That ache focused into a pain, a low moan falling over Steve’s lips as he spread his legs further, lifting his hips-

Presenting himself.

That illicit excitement flushed over him again, raw and tender and… good.

“Jesus, look at you,” Tony growled, sliding his hands over the Steve’s thighs. Running his thumbs through that slippery film of slick, pressing into the sensitive skin at the top of his legs. Steve moaned an incoherent string of vowel sounds into the pillows, his cock stinging in a valiant attempt to respond.

Without thinking, Steve pushed his weight up onto his elbows, letting his head fall forward and arching his back.

He heard Tony hum appreciatively before he let his hands slide up, firmly caressing Steve’s ass before he spread him open.

Steve told himself not to hold his breath, not to tense.

And then Tony rolled his thumb over Steve’s rim, and Steve’s whole body clenched against the intensity of the sensation, overwhelmed by just how _much_ it was.

And then the soft, slow sweep of Tony’s tongue.

This time the shock was purely physical, a very fundamental conflict between what Steve had been expecting and what was suddenly happening – which somehow made it even better.

Steve felt his muscles loosen again as Tony ran the flat of his tongue over his hole, his fingertips still flexing firmly against Steve’s skin. He let those little rivets of warm pleasure run through him, gasping and whimpering with every move Tony made-

Breaking out into a pleading moan, as Tony began working over his rim with the tip of his tongue, pushing inside him, teasing sharper, needier sensations out of him.

Steve tried to push back, but Tony held him firm.

He tried to beg, but he couldn’t form the words.

And then, just as that pain inside him glowed to the very edge of too much, Tony slid two fingers into him, fast and determined.

“Oh, God, please yes please,” Steve sobbed, as Tony seemed to find that ache inside him and drag against it, a deeply _satisfying_ pleasure grinding up through Steve’s body, a _good_ ache-

At least, until it burnt itself out into an agonising need for more.

Like an itch he’d finally found but couldn’t get to, or the painful rest after something truly, bodily exhausting-

It was almost worse now that it was better.

He needed this _more_ now that he so nearly had it.

“Oh, _please- Ah-_ ”

Tony pushed into him again, and then again, setting a steady, deep rhythm. Setting off wave after wave of that rich, gratifying pleasure, faster than they could consume themselves, until Steve was warmed through with that wonderful feeling-

But that ache was still there. Throbbing consistently, and then petulantly, and then desperately-

“Please Tony, please-”

Tony pushed another finger into him, twisting his knuckles against Steve’s rim.

“ _Please_ Alpha-”

Tony barked a low moan, tensing still for a second, his hand still buried deep inside Steve.

And then he pulled away swiftly, pushing himself against Steve before Steve had the chance to complain about the absence of him.

He could feel Tony’s cock, hard and thick, pressed against the cleft of his ass.

“You want this,” Tony growled, so rough and commanding that it didn’t even sound like a question-

Steve answered it anyway.

“Yes, I want you, I want this, please.”

And then the hot, dull press of Tony’s cock, flaring into a scorching _burn_ as Tony jerked forward, pushing past his rim.

Steve’s breath hitched, a thick dizziness overwhelming his head as that stinging heat crawled up his spine and down along his legs.

And then he felt Tony squeeze his shoulder, comforting and affectionate and grounding somehow-

 _It’s okay, relax_.

Steve exhaled, melting against Tony’s touch. That eyewatering burn eased slightly as it spread out through his muscles, settling into a low, compulsive throbbing.

And then Tony carried on pushing into him, slow and strong and steady, stretching him open, filling him up. A heady relief overwhelmed Steve as that painful emptiness in him eased. Until, at last, Tony had filled him completely, and there was an endless, weightless moment of simple _rightness_. Steve relaxed into it, letting himself feel every inch of Tony, revelling in it-

And then Tony pulled back, and sank into him again, that same careful pace-

And it _just_ felt good.

Steve moaned, something like Tony’s name, rocking back against him as much as he was able as Tony thrust into him again, and again. Warm pulses of pleasure ran up his back, as a fuller, more immediate heat bloomed inside him.

God, he loved this feeling.

Tony let his pace increase gradually, letting Steve’s body relax and loosen around him, pushing more and more of that sensation into him, until Steve was just floating on it or drowning in it-

He didn’t even know.

He didn’t understand this ethereal sense of balance, wouldn’t have been able to find words for it even if he could remember any words-

This feeling of giving and taking, all at once.

Wanting so much to make Tony happy, and knowing that it made Tony happy to give him what he wanted.

Being doted on and dominated.

Cared for and consumed.

And then Tony thrust into him more sharply, hitting his prostate, sparking a different, more urgent pleasure.

“M-more, again, plea- _please-_ ” Steve heard himself babbling, cut short when Tony slammed into him again, harder, and rougher.

“Fuck, Steve, you feel so good, _so_ good,” Tony replied, equally mindlessly, his voice harsh and breathy.

A fierce heat shot up Steve’s spine, his mouth falling open in a wordless scream as he was pushed right up to his limit, over and over. His shoulders tensed again, his heart raced, his eyes watered.

Fuck, he wanted to come. He _needed_ to come.

He felt it swell up in him, again and again, so good and so close and still somehow not _quite_ enough.

And then suddenly Steve was just begging, frantic and delirious and with no idea where the words were coming from.

“Knot me Alpha, please knot me, I want it, I need it-”

And the sound Tony made was positively feral, something between a moan and a roar, as he grabbed Steve by the waist and began fucking into him with brutal, bruising force.

And then buried himself deep inside him, leaning into him and hissing, close against his ear,

“ _Mine._ ”

It was like Steve had slipped out of himself completely, like this incredible pleasure had somehow exceeded his corporal form.

He could _feel_ Tony coming inside him,

He could feel that word pulsing under his skin, _mine_.

And then the heat of Tony’s breath against his back, the low, satisfied groan,

_Pleased with me_

And then that new pressure, pushing up into places that Steve had never been touched. Places he didn’t know he’d burned to be touched, until right now.

Oh, the _thought_ of Tony’s knot expanding inside him right now, claiming him, locking them together in this heady sensation.

 _Mine_.

And then Tony moved just slightly, settling himself into position as he filled Steve up, snapping Steve out of that blissed out haze with a searing jolt.

And he just broke.

His orgasm crashed through him, his bones trembling under the force of it, his muscles melting to nothing as everything was just washed away.

He could hear himself yelling, sounds that might’ve been words, but God knows which ones.

He could feel his body shaking with the force of it, like some separate structure he temporarily inhabited.

It seemed to go on forever, this endless flow of pure liquid feeling, this dizzying high.

And then everything slowed.

The whole world seemed to stretch around him, his heartbeat echoing from further away, the air suddenly thicker and fuller.

He took a long, shuddering breath, letting his body settle back into itself, heavier and lighter all at once.

And at the centre of it all, that strange, solid entity, part of him and separate to him.

Tony’s knot.

His Alpha’s knot.

“Oh, Tony…” he gasped, only then realising that his face was wet with tears.

“Steve,” Tony whispered, his voice _so_ soft now, and careful, and kind. “It’s okay baby, come here.”

Tony slid one arm underneath him, rolling them both onto their sides in one swift movement, pulling Steve close against his chest. He dropped his head to press slow, warm kisses to Steve’s neck, one hand stroking all the damp heat from Steve’s hair.

“Tony,” Steve whispered again, not even sure why he was saying it. Just wanting to.

“You are incredible,” Tony responded, in between kisses. “Beautiful, and brave, and sweet. You were so good Steve, so good…”

Steve let his head fall back against Tony, indulging in the softness of Tony’s skin pressed up against his back, letting himself get lost in the gentle melody of his voice.

*

They stayed that way for at least an hour, with Tony lavishing soft kisses and tender touches all over his neck and shoulders, whispering praise and reassurances and expressions of general amazement. And Steve just smiled, and sighed, and… let him. Long after Tony had pulled out of him, and pulled him closer, until Steve felt the happy warmth of sleep closing in around him.

“You still with me, Steve?” Tony asked at some point, dragging Steve out of a pleasant doze.

“Hm?” Steve opened his eyes. He heard Tony chuckle affectionately into his neck. Steve liked that sound.

“Just checking,” he smiled.

Steve took a long, slow breath, waking himself up again.

His body was still loose, and soft, and heavy, his skin still tingling pleasantly – but he was beginning to feel a _bit_ more like his day-time self, now. He could remember words now, at least. His surroundings had started to make more sense to him, even if he didn’t really care about them. He could at least cast his eye over the room, and take in some of the details…

Including the fact that, now that he looked… this bedspread had a row of little yellow ducks, embroidered along the edge of it.

Steve reached out mindlessly, running his finger over the raised shapes, frowning, and then smiling at the utter absurdity of that little element.

And then it would have gone out of his mind completely, instantly forgotten along with all the other meaningless observations that were floating through the quiet happiness in his head.

But Tony noticed, and huffed a surprised little laugh at the discovery, and then murmured casually,

“I take it you didn’t pick these sheets, then?”

“No,” Steve smiled. And then pulled a little throw-away joke out of nowhere. “No, _I_ wanted the ones with the bunnies.”

And there was that laugh again. That genuine, musical laugh, with no hint of malice – that same warm feeling in Steve’s chest.

But then Tony cut himself off with a strange sound. Something like a groan. And then he sighed, and whispered into Steve’s hair,

“Oh, I _really_ like you.”

It came out somewhere between amazed and anguished – like he might’ve been playing it up for comedic effect, but he obviously wasn’t joking.

Steve rolled over to look up at him.

“Bet you say that to all the Omegas” he smiled, quietly. He watched the feeling flash in Tony’s eyes, before he glanced away, shyly, and bit his bottom lip.

And then he looked back at Steve with such sincerity… such sadness.

“No,” he whispered, with the tiniest shake of his head.

And Steve absolutely believed him.

And because he couldn’t think of how to explain these feelings – how much he liked Tony, how much it meant that Tony liked him, how happy he was in this moment… He just reached up and put a hand to the side of Tony’s face, and pulled him down into a kiss.

As though he just could.

Tony’s lips melted against his, soft, and sweet, and gentle. Unhurried and undemanding. And Steve just sighed, and let his hand slide up into Tony’s hair-

And then his phone rang.

Steve froze, confused, knowing that he recognised that sound but unable to place it.

And them he remembered the basics. That sound meant his phone was ringing, and that meant he should answer it-

He didn’t think any more about it. Mainly, he wanted to silence that noise.

“Hello?” He used his telephone voice as a default, and the formality of it felt strange in his mouth.

“Just checking everything is okay,”

Natasha.

Oh, God. Steve remembered Natasha.

In one horrible rush, Steve remembered that this wasn’t forever. That Tony _wasn’t_ his.

That Nat was waiting to drive him away from here… To Pierce.

Oh, God, he was supposed to be bonding with Pierce-

“Steve?” Nat said again, an edge of urgency in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied, barely even listening to her… Too focused on Tony, sighing sadly, and sitting up.

Oh, it was over.

It couldn’t be over.

Of _course_ it was over, it was never meant to be-

“Um, are _you_ okay?” Steve asked, because he couldn’t quite bring himself to word it, _do I have to leave right now?_

“Yeah, of course,” she answered. “Not hurrying you, it’s just, you know – Pierce would have me killed if anything had happened to you.”

She meant it to be reassuring, he knew she did. She was _trying_ to be nice. It wasn’t her fault that a sudden lump had lodged itself in Steve’s throat when she said that, and now he could barely breathe.

“Yeah, I won’t be much longer,” he managed, speaking too quietly. Wishing it weren’t true…

But Tony was already searching the floor for his shirt, and a quick glance at his phone told Steve it was far later than he’d ever expected to be here…

Oh, how had all that happiness and comfort and safety disappeared so quickly?

How could he _possibly_ feel this lost and lonely, after something like that?

_Jesus, don’t cry, for Fuck’s sake-_

He felt the mattress dip, as Tony sat down beside him, basically dressed again. Steve pulled the covers up to his chest, wishing he could curl up into a ball and disappear.

“Hey,” Tony whispered, bittersweet and tender. And then he brushed a very gentle touch over Steve’s jaw, a silent request, _please look at me._

And when he did, Steve found those eyes were wider and deeper and more beautiful than they’d ever been.

“Are you okay?” Tony asked, sincerely.

And there was this brief, irrational, _reckless_ impulse, the little voice that whispers to you from the top floor of high buildings, _go on, jump_.

_Tell him no, you’re not okay._

_Tell him you don’t want to bond with Pierce._

_Tell him you really like him too, that you don’t want him to go._

_Go on – jump._

…And the same horrified realisation of himself. The instinct to leap back from the edge, to overcorrect, to bury that urge to destroy himself.

_This isn’t real._

_Don’t ruin it._

Steve nodded, too enthusiastically. He even made some attempt to smile.

“Yeah, no, sorry, I am – I promise,” although he had to glance down at his hands when he was saying it. “Just a bit emotional and overwhelmed, I think. But… good. It was good.”

And then he _forced_ himself to meet Tony’s eye… and simply couldn’t name the expression he saw on Tony’s face. But he recognised the way he tensed his jaw, and pinched his lips – he knew Tony was thinking of saying something, that he was sorting through words in his head.

There was a static pause of a second, and then two…

And then Tony just exhaled softly, the words disappearing in a rush of air, a more defeated look weighing over his features when he nodded.

“There, uh, should be some clean clothes for you in the bathroom,” he muttered, glancing up at a door at the back of the bedroom. Steve didn’t bother to look.

“Thank you,” he sighed. “I mean, I take it that you thought of that, not Pierce.”

Oh, that was a tad bitter. A bit close to honest. He should probably hold his tongue until he could get this torrent of emotion under control.

“Well, I didn’t give him much chance to think of anything, really,” Tony muttered. “He probably would have thought of most of this, if I’d not demanded it first…”

Steve huffed a joyless laugh. _Thank you for lying._

“I’ll leave you to it,” Tony accepted sadly. “You, uh, might want to give it ten minutes, if you want to avoid Romanov’s angry interrogation of me…”

“Yeah, I’ll… take a minute, have a shower, I guess…” Steve replied awkwardly.

And then there was a sudden stab of panic as he realised how much he wanted to say something… _right._ How much he’d like to finish this perfect evening on a sweet sentiment, or a hopeful thought, rather than tarnishing the whole memory with this sad, difficult ending…

But he couldn’t think of _anything-_

And then Tony took his hand, _holding_ it the way he had in the hallway, a sudden sort of focus about him.

“If you _ever_ need me, you can always come find me. For anything. I promise.”

Steve felt a genuine smile warm through him. It was like a lifeline in a storm, a ray of hope that outshone all the darkness of his actual situation.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

And Tony leant in and kissed him, gently, almost chastely, on the lips.

And then sweetly, affectionately, on his forehead.

And then, with a heavy sigh, he stood up and walked to the door. He turned, and caught Steve’s eye for just a second.

And then he was gone.

For a few moments there was just that deafening, suffocating silence. The room seemed so horribly empty, like it was full of the absence of something – like Steve could’ve been crushed under it.

He wondered if it might be better to cry now, rather than risk bursting into tears in the car…

And then a hot pressure rose up in his chest, the _genuine_ threat of tears, as he realised-

That he was actually going to have to sit in the car with Natasha, all the way ‘home’

That it _wasn’t_ his home, that he didn’t feel comfortable or safe there, or like anything was _his_.

The he _knew_ Pierce hadn’t given a single thought to that journey – that, if Tony weren’t so considerate, Steve would’ve had to suffer that entire trip in his other clothes, with Nat pretending she hadn’t noticed the smell and him pretending he hadn’t noticed her notice.

That Pierce was thoughtless, and distant, and selfish, and controlling…

That Steve didn’t even _like_ him – or the life he had with him.

…That he didn’t _want_ to be bonded to Pierce at all.

_Oh, God, that’s… that’s so…_

He waited for ‘bad’. He waited to be overwhelmed by the realisation of just how much he’d fucked this up, and how terrible it was going to be, and how many things this would ruin…

And felt only a giddy, dizzying sense of utter _relief_.

He literally fell back into it, sprawling back out onto the bedsheets, unable to keep himself upright.

His ears were actually ringing.

_Well, this all seems a bit sudden and reckless,_ a little voice piped up – mainly, because he couldn’t quite believe the completeness of this epiphany. Because he felt obliged to pick at it, to test it, to make sure of it.

_You’ve just decided, just like that, that you’re not going to do it now?_

_After all these weeks of self-analysis, all those sensible arguments?_

_Even though all of your friends work for him, and your whole career is now dependant on him, and you’ll have nowhere to live…_

And, God, this was all so much clearer now.

That these were the very reasons _why_ he shouldn’t be doing this.

Because he should never have been having to argue himself into this in the first place.

Because he shouldn’t _be_ in a position where he had to rely on Peirce for everything-

Because he didn’t _like_ the person who’d put him in that position in the first place.

…Of course, he didn’t quite know what he was going to do _instead_. Where is _was_ going to live, or how he was going to work, or if there was anyone who’d still help him if Pierce wasn’t ordering them to…

_But Tony said-_

Steve shook that thought away.

He didn’t want to examine that promise too carefully… he wanted to keep it as something perfect, and special, for it to fit into this beautiful memory.

He didn’t _want_ to consider the role Tony was here to play.

He didn’t want to think about the whole thing rationally, to see himself as the delusional loser who’d convinced himself that a consort actually liked him, simply because he was good at his job-

He didn’t ever want to think of this as Tony’s job. Ever.

And, more to the point – he already knew it didn’t matter.

Steve couldn’t decide to love Peirce on the condition that Tony didn’t mean it… He couldn’t stay with him, however poor his alternatives.

He’d _have_ to do this, even if it did mean doing it entirely on his own… So, he might as well think about how he was going to do that-

 _Without_ dragging the memory of Tony into it.

…Which was going to be _awful_ , even at its absolute best.

Even the thought of telling Pierce – the very idea of that awkward, painful conversation – made Steve’s skin crawl.

Even listing all the things he’d have to think about gave him a headache.

The vague prospect of that the lonely stressful life he might have afterwards was… well, was…

Better.

Steve smiled, and sat up.

He grabbed his phone, and hastily typed out a text to Natasha – _I’ll be out in ten minutes._

Because, all of a sudden, he didn’t feel like crying anymore.


End file.
